


Sunday

by kalika_999



Series: Jack and Brock's misadventures [58]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Blindness, HYDRA Husbands, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 10:06:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16700437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/pseuds/kalika_999
Summary: On one of his visits there were murmurs that seemed out of place and some thank you’s he could pick up before someone approached him to snatch his arm and raise it upwards, something soft in a wrapper pressing against his fingers until he grasped at it.“ -What’re ya doin’?”“Shove it in your mouth!” The mystery man instructed before his footsteps carried him away and faded off again with more thank you’s and occasional mentions of some bakery.





	Sunday

**Author's Note:**

> Back to my bullshit :P

It began in the park of all places. 

Usually Brock would sit on the benches and listen to everything around him. At the beginning it was just to get everyone off his back and have some time to himself, away from the assisted living residence where everyone meant well but stifled him from time to time. 

Lately though, it was more just to enjoy being outside. He’d rest his cane across his lap or lean it to the side if he was braver about surrounding company. It had taken a bit of time for him to adjust to everything and every mistake he made only made him determined to get back at the world. 

He fixed his sunglasses and warmed to the beams of light. It took him way too long to feel okay with not seeing rays of sun anymore or faces of people passing on by. Occasionally his friend and neighbor Clint would join him and throw out birdseed while they had slices of pizza and it was different to hear all of nature flocking around his feet instead of just watching them. Normally though, Brock would sit by himself and just take it all in, give himself the space he’d need to breathe and settle in at his own pace.

Slowly the visits to the park became a regular occurrence twice a week, just what the therapist ordered as Clint would say and slowly Brock’s bottled up fuck you’s to the world after the accident that lingered seemed to have left him completely.

It was not that far after that on one of his visits there were murmurs that seemed out of place and some thank you’s he could pick up before someone approached him to snatch his arm and raise it upwards, something soft in a wrapper pressing against his fingers until he grasped at it.

“ -What’re ya doin’?”

“Shove it in your mouth!” The mystery man instructed before his footsteps carried him away and faded off again with more thank you’s and occasional mentions of some bakery.

Giving the item a squeeze, he had come to realize it was some sort of cupcake and despite the red flags that you shouldn’t put something into your mouth a stranger shoved in your hand in the middle of a park, regardless of how good the lemon smelled, he did it anyway and never regret it.

Now usually Brock never really had a mind for sweets, sure he would accept a slice of cake or a sweet drink but he never really sought it out. This cupcake though; he could feel his fingertips catch on writing, barely raised on a cocktail napkin that had been hugging the wrapper and his taste buds demanded more. 

That was almost a year ago. Lately he only visited the park once a week and on every Sunday he would take his very practiced and leisurely walk through that same park and make his way through all the way to the other side where the alternative entrance picked up the smells of fresh baked bread and sugary delights hanging in the air. It helped lead him all the way to the bakery and stepping inside was always the same, the perfect smells bombarding him tenfold.

Brock’s Sunday here was always the same; a coffee and one lemon drop cupcake, maybe two, while sitting at the back corner of what he gathered was a modestly sized shop and taking his time to listen to the world around him or on occasion, a podcast he set up for himself.

Today his feet move a little faster the stronger the smells of the bakery were apparent, coffee swirling into the fold and maybe a small smile peeked out at Brock’s lips. He stepped off the path laid out for the park, feeling the change of surfaces under his shoes and with his cane, only a few steps across the sidewalk before he was standing at the corner of the street. He worked to line himself up at the curb so he could prepare to cross, moving his cane along either direction to map out the edge and purposefully avoiding the dip for strollers and mobility scooters. He was only satisfied when he was at the highest curb edge he could find and then waited once the crossing button was pressed. In the ready, Brock listened to cars eventually slow and occasional brakes coming to a soft squealed stop, the systematic chirping of the crosswalk informing him he was now able to proceed.

Reaching the other end always made him feel better, working past two shops until his cane hit a thick doormat that made him smile. It was just an ongoing joke and absolutely not because the charming owner was going out of his way for him. Brock had told him about how one of his favorite restaurants had a thick doormat out for the sole reason that it said welcome on it but for Brock it was a way for him to know he made it to the correct place. The following week Brock found there was a welcome mat in front of the bakery and he had to ask someone stepping out if he was at the right place. 

He was sure Jack (the bakery owner) did it just to make him feel comfortable since it was the kind of person Brock found him to be. It was a new way of life, Jack had once told him, when he had been explaining how he came about owning the bakery in the first place. A terrible car accident had left him hung up in the hospital for a long time and once he was able and ready, it convinced him to reevaluate his life and act on what he truly yearned to do. Everyone that came to visit seemed to be excited to see him and Brock had the unintended bonus of overhearing hushed conversations between different women that were loaded full of euphemisms about kneading dough.

Brock pushed open the door to the bakery and piloted by memory inside, the tables and chairs placed so they weren’t tightly bunched together but also left a clear aisle down the center so he wasn’t colliding into anything every step of the way like the last coffee place he tried to frequent. The first time he was here, there had been a chair in the way but it was quickly moved and he’d never had a problem since. 

He listened a few steps in to gauge how many people were around, getting an idea before making his way in with more caution in case someone was carrying a hot drink or there were kids running about. He held his free hand out slightly in a careful way as he headed for the front counter.

“Hey, Brock. You haven’t been here in ages. Where’ve you been?”

He wanted to roll his eyes at the familiar greeting, a smirk breaking out as he rested his hand against the counter top surface, his fingers feeling it out. “Your greetin’s are so damn terrible, need to work on those people skills, Jack.” 

He was glad for Sundays, it was his only free day to really do nothing and be at his leisure so it was nice to show up that once a week like clockwork. Jack only prepared three flavors per day as he had other desserts to choose from besides the cupcakes and Wednesday and Sunday were the days he did lemon. At first it was something with mango on Sundays but the demand apparently made him change his mind, Brock recalled how surprised Jack sounded when he mentioned his feelings on the lemon drop cupcake. Jack hinted about changing it up because of the feedback and the following Sunday he was informed they permanently changed out their mango icing cupcake for the lemon. A perfect bonus for Brock.

That and Jack was always really kind to him. It was weird to explain because he wasn’t exactly a people person, but he was always interested in the tones of people’s voices in a way to gauge their moods. He could generally tell when someone was bullshitting him or just not that into holding a conversation but Jack, he always sounded really pleased to see him and it made Brock’s day. He also figured it was because they got along and Jack could rely on his honest opinion on experimental desserts or new recipes the baker was antsy to make. Jack told him on more than a few times he respected Brock’s point of view considering he was down one sense and they were settled on a level of friendship where Brock immediately called him an asshole for it and they’d share a laugh together.

Jack chuckled softly to what he said and Brock felt his stomach do some sort of weird swooping sensation that he hastily ignored, footsteps approaching the opposite side of the counter and the sound of a small saucer setting itself down. “True. I’m still going to use it though, just to annoy you. So what would you like? The usual?”

“Yep, gonna hang out ‘ere a few hours long today if that’s alright, so I’ll take two cupcakes today.”

Jack made a sound of regret, moving away a few steps to the right where Brock knew the pastries and desserts were put out in what he could only imagine was a large glass display. “Hm, that may be a problem. We had a soccer mom come in and pick up a couple dozen cupcakes so we don’t have anymore Lemon Drop.” 

Brock turned towards the sound of Jack’s voice, actually surprised. “Are ya jokin’?”

Jack was silent, the room roaming with soft chatter as well as sounds of cups and cutlery. Brock felt disappointment seep in and he tried not to let it show on his face. “Well, I guess I’ll jus grab whatever ya got on hand then.”

“Oh Jack, quit being mean! You shouldn’t be teasing him. How are you today, Brock?”

Brock inclined his head to the left, slightly behind him, “Hey Wanda, m’alright. How’re ya doin’?”

She moved in closer, giving his arm a squeeze. “I’m wonderful, thank you. It’s so good to see you today. I have to go clean some tables but give Jack hell for playing tricks on you. He kept two cupcakes away like he always does on Sundays for you, enjoy yourself!”

Brock turned back to face Jack, his expression wearing the best smug impression he could bring out. “Lyin’ to me now? That ain’t very nice of you, especially to yer favorite customer.”

Jack laughed, the saucer moving across the counter. “Are you sure about that?”

Leaning his arms against the surface, Brock smirked. “I better be if I’m havin’ to be yer guinea pig, that and Wanda ratted ya out. Savin’ food fer me makes it a safe bet to assume.” 

He heard the plated cupcakes rest down on the counter and Brock reached out to trace his finger along the edge of it. That familiar sound of coffee filling a cup followed after as he took in the heady freshly roasted scent he longed for whenever he wasn’t here. He liked habit and routine, it helped keep his world steady and predictable, he didn’t need surprises leaving him disoriented or confused and this was one of his favorite “normal” things in the world.

“It’s pretty busy today, I’ll take it over.”

Brock made a noise of acknowledgment as he picked his cane back up, making his way around carefully while Jack waited for him like he always did. He'd used the same line on him since the first day and despite Brock wanting to give him shit for it, he was aware enough to realize a busy place of business with a blind customer holding coffee was probably an invitation for a lawsuit. That and he began to not mind the way Jack always made himself available to serve him, he kind of _really_ didn’t mind it at all at the beginning either.

“‘Preciate it.” Brock nodded with a smile as he took his seat at the corner, his back to the wall and out of the way of any other customers. He carefully reached out for his plate and cup, his hands brushing against Jack’s accidentally and Brock startled. “Shit, you scared me.”

“Sorry. I was turning the mug handle your way, just making it easier for you which was dumb, you got it.” 

Trying not to smile, Jack’s proximity brought upon the stronger scent of bread, faint traces of pine and an odd underlying but familiar smell of old books. It was funny he could recognize it, sure that normal people wouldn’t have but he did and it just felt good. That at least it strengthened his nose if he couldn’t use his sight. Plus he knew one of the man’s favorite pastimes was to forget the world with a good story so it was a nice thing to pick up. Forcing the thoughts out of his head, Brock gave a quick shrug instead. “Ain’t no skin off my nose, thanks Jackie.” 

There was a distinct sound of a pause before Jack responded, voice soft. “You’re welcome, Brock. Take Wanda’s advice, enjoy yourself.”

Brock smiled, a warmth rising around his collar as he listened and a few seconds passed before footsteps retreated back to the counter. He situated himself, resting his hands along the surface of the table and aligning the cup and dessert plate just so along with his paper napkin, fingers running over the rough raised lettering of the bakery name out of habit before he let his shoulders relax and was ready to soak into the background.

Carefully he reached for one of the two cupcakes and slowly picked it up, peeling the wrapper off and discarding it aside, repeating the gesture with the second one. He rested the papers onto his napkin and took a tentative bite of the cupcake in his hand, making sure he didn’t get the thick frosting onto his nose like the first time he visited. As always it was rich and fluffy with the wonderful tart taste of lemon that wasn’t overpowering the sweetness alongside, he always wanted more even if the bakery piped it on so thick that Brock knew it was probably bad for his waistline. The cake itself had a more subtle flavor of lemony sweetness that left its body moist and sinfully soft and together it was a perfect match. He couldn’t believe that before he didn’t care about cupcakes and now he could wax poetic about how delicious they were.

The chair across from him pulled out and someone sat themselves down in a flurry of speed. “So, how’s it taste today?”

Taking a sip of his coffee before answering, Brock turned his face up towards Bucky’s direction as he smiled to his new welcomed company. “Like always, Jack’s amazin’ at lemon cupcakes or _anythin’_ he makes. I’m glad he didn’t change it back to mango on Sundays.”

If he was being honest, everything he’s had from the bakery is delicious, yes even the mango frosting on the vanilla bean cupcake. Even the bread was amazing, though it was usually sold out by the time he came in. You really had to be there when Jack was opening to grab the ones you wanted and Brock wasn’t sure when the man slept despite never sounding tired when they spoke. It was always the opposite.

Silence sat between them before Bucky seemed to move in closer, the scent of leather lingering in between them and he cleared his throat softly to indicate just how near he was. Brock wondered if he was trying to keep some sort of comment between them, his hand resting the coffee and plate to the side so he could lean in a little.

"Yeah well, there’s probably a real big reason for that."

Brock’s brows furrowed together in confusion as he tried to figure out what exactly that meant, Bucky’s tone trying its best to be inconspicuous, like he was hinting at something without the hint. Brock only tilted his head, feeling a little confused. “You mean me? Jack ain’t gotta go to any trouble fer me, I mean I ‘preciate lemon but anythin’ he makes works. I can figure out somethin’ else to order.”

Bucky snorted, “Or..maybe just maybe, you could say thanks by asking him out for coffee sometime? I mean, if you’re interested, that is.” 

He could hear Bucky trying to sound as casual as he possibly could while still attempting to keep his voice down and secretive. “But I mean somewhere else for coffee, not here. Just take him out and both of you have a nice little outing because you know he doesn’t normally do this for everyone, right? It’s not like he does it because of your,” He sighed. “Your disability. Believe me on that."

Bucky paused and Brock wasn't sure what he was doing but he waited for him to continue, hands nervously pressing together against his lap.

"How many times do I complain to you both about my stupid lack of arm when my prosthetic doesn’t work properly or it hurts and stops me from doing things I always do around here? Jack always saying for me to take it easy, even if I don’t want to. He just, real talk between us? He kinda likes you, but he’d be the last person to ever admit it out loud. Fortunately for him, he’s stupidly obvious about it but way too awkward to act upon it. I bet if you could see, you would be calling him out on his crap. You seem like the type.” 

Swallowing thickly, Brock took a few seconds to process what Bucky was saying and maybe in some other world where Brock could actually _see_ , he may have agreed with calling Jack out. Actually, if he was being honest, he most likely would have asked him out, at least just to spend some time with him and see how it panned out. At the present though..

He brought a hand to his lips, nervously brushing a knuckle against them, turning his head towards the table with a minor shake as his other retrieved his wallet from his back right pocket. “I don’t think that’s somethin’ that’d work out well, Buck.”

Feeling out carefully folded bill corners that sat in a special pattern, he placed down two five dollar notes, his hand resting flat against them as he slid the cash across the table towards Bucky’s arm, “Sorry but I gotta get goin’.”

“Brock? You just got here.”

Focusing on keeping his features stoic, Brock collected his cane and felt his way around the table edge, Bucky’s hand holding his arm to keep him there but only with a light grip that Brock slipped himself out of. Bucky didn’t try again and relief washed over as he made an evident show of getting through so customers would get out of his way and problems didn’t come up while making a quick exit. He wasn’t sure but he thought he heard Jack’s voice call after him through the collection of voices inside and the addition of street noise outside. He didn’t turn back though, escaping as quickly as he possibly could back towards the park.

Sure, Jack never made any indication that his blindness was an issue. Brock felt normal and despite small little nice things he did for him like the mug turn so he was grabbing handle first, it was never seen by Brock as something Jack did because of his lack of sight. It seemed more like it was part of his nature to be kind that way, and though what Bucky said about keeping his favorite flavored cupcake around on the day he visited, he still believed Jack was helpful to anyone he came into contact with. There were a few times he could hear old ladies chatting to Jack about breads they came in to buy and complaining about how they always sold too quickly, leaving them with nothing to take home; of course as time drifted by, Jack began holding orders in the back just for them. It was just how he was.

Now really thinking about it, Brock was interested. He had been since the day he heard Jack greet him. He really did want to spend time with him outside of the bakery and he’d give anything to sit on the couch with him just to hang out. He would love to have a meal at a nice restaurant, hell even go to the movies. It was all easy to imagine doing, Jack was always making him feel welcome, he never did anything that made Brock feel useless or _disabled_. 

But Bucky was wrong, his friend didn’t see how time would pass and Jack would eventually get bored trying to be accommodating on a full time basis. Brock’s sure of it and Jack wouldn’t mean to do it maliciously either, but it would happen. Bluntly put, he was blind and Jack wasn’t; it’d get tiresome to describe things to him and Jack would lose the immersion of a film or show. He’d have to have some sort of guidance going to new places so he can map it out in his head and even reading a menu would be work for Jack.

It was mainly why Brock avoided dating in the first place. He got tired of going out and getting his hopes up, at first his dates didn’t mind but it always fell apart in the end and it was worse when he could _hear_ the moment they had given up trying. He didn’t want to put something like that between him and Jack, eventually Jack would get over the rejection and find someone worth his time. It was better that way.

By the time he reached his apartment he was completely upset with himself and the situation, anger rumbling at the surface of all his unhappiness. Frustration took over, tired of being stuck like this, lost in a perpetual circle of falling for someone that liked him back but knew in the long run they were going to leave him. Brock wished, for once in his life, he could allow someone in without it blowing up in his face. 

His phone announced Bucky attempting to call him for the seventh time and he ignored it again. The sobering thought crossing his mind that if Jack really did feel as strongly about him as much as Bucky seemed to be selling it, he couldn’t go back to the bakery, it wouldn’t be fair to either of them.

*****

It was hard to stay away though, the first Sunday of being cooped up in his small little apartment without going out was restless, to put it lightly. At first Brock didn’t even want to leave his bed, unable to stop thinking about Jack and wishing everything was different so he could do everything he wanted with him. The knowledge that he couldn’t keep himself buried under the covers until he finally had to get out and feed himself or use the restroom was too obvious and eventually he left his room, but it only meant a bigger space for him to celebrate his pity party. 

The following Sunday after that he woke up with a black cloud permanently affixed over his head the whole week and it led him to the decision that he would rather be around Jack than stay away from him. Two weeks was enough of an indication he couldn’t just drop everything cold turkey and hopefully Jack hadn’t banned him from the shop; they could figure something out while managing to go about life like before. He was just too selfish to keep himself away any longer.

He really missed Jack, missed the way his voice lifted when he was greeting him and the way he could detect him smiling into it. Stuck with all his thoughts, he was sure his crush was so big that it was good to take some time away but that left his heart only hurting more instead of mending it a little. 

Usually he was eager to get going on his walk to arrive at the bakery as quickly as he could but today he took his time. He was mindful of choosing what to wear and fixed himself up as nicely as he could. He even went as far as to visit his next door neighbor to ask for her opinion and after an adjustment of his collar, she told him he looked amazing. With the vote of confidence he took himself on his usual route, palms already beginning to sweat and the hope that he wasn’t going to be told to get lost the moment he stepped inside.

When he did arrive, making his way toward the till, he was met with nothing. The usual warm greeting from Jack asking how he was, full of welcome and kindness just wasn’t there. Today it was nothing but the normal chatter of patrons and no sign of Jack.

Hesitantly, Brock approached the counter once he felt out there wasn’t a line, his cane leaning against the front while his fingertips glided across the smooth surface as they always did. There was a shift of movement across the other side as he waited and the familiar scent he began picking up of fresh bread mixed with cloying sweetness and pine began to fade away, replaced with the smell of coffee and leather he knew too well as Bucky wafted in.

“Hey Brock.” There was a moment of pause, “How’re you doing? Missed seeing you around since you never answered my calls. What can I get you?”

Brock couldn’t hide the disappointment, head bowing slightly in dismay. “Jus a coffee’s fine, Buck. Thanks, and I’m alright, thought I should drop by. Sorry 'bout not callin'.” 

He wasn’t in the mood to eat anymore, his stomach twisting itself into knots and making him feel so out of place. Jack had purposefully walked away and forced Bucky to serve him, which only meant that he found out what happened the last time he was here and Brock only wished he never decided to show up again.

Waiting near the end of the front counter, Brock didn’t want to have his coffee served like usual. He waited for it instead until the cup was placed close to his hands and he allowed his fingers to lightly brush against the ceramic. Half of him wanted to leave, the other wanted to sit in his normal seat and sulk.

“Can ya tell ‘im it ain’t anythin’ personal? That it’s jus easier this way? Ain’t no one happy bein’ stuck with a blind man after the novelty wears off.” He mumbled unhappily with a small sniff. 

He decided to stay and wallow in his misery, maybe later Jack could join him and they could talk again. He was hopeful that maybe they could mend this, because he really didn’t want to find a new place on Sundays and he definitely didn’t want to lose Jack as a friend.

Carefully making it to his regular seat with deep hopes no one was already there (though he was sure Bucky wouldn’t leave him to be humiliated like that), Brock set his cup down and bracketed his arms around the warmth, leaning close enough to feel the hot ribbons of steam brushing near his face.

Somewhere in the chatter he heard Bucky call out for Jack towards where Brock assumed was the kitchen and he shrank further into his seat. He was reminded again that it may have been a mistake to linger, maybe to even show up. He already understood the damage he caused and maybe Jack didn’t see the rejection as a good thing right now but he would, at least Brock _tried_ to tell himself that, sighing low into the light coils of curling steam.

Despite the warmth of the bakery, he felt cold and buttoned his coat up. When his arm returned to rest on the table, he struck his hand against something plastic and triangular-shaped sitting more towards the center. Picking it up, his fingers ran over the smooth etched letters that spelled out: RESERVED

Brock swallowed thickly. The bakery wasn’t a place you would need a reservation and Brock slowly became aware of how Jack always made it a thing to bring his food and drink to the table while saying a few things before going back to work. That he was probably removing the little sign once Brock was seated came to light and he wasn’t the wiser. Jack had probably been doing that every single time and it was no wonder his table was always free. Even now, he still did it and every single small thing Jack had done for Brock was assumed as purely Jack just being Jack. 

He was still floored at the idea that Jack _wanted_ to do things for _him_ ; like the odd placement of a doormat outside, the greetings, the cupcakes, the little mug adjustments and always their easy conversations. Jack never seemed to be sick of it, even after months had gone by and Brock knew everything around his environment by heart.

“Sorry, I forgot to take it before you sat down. I didn’t mean to impose..”

The voice startled Brock out of his head and he tilted his head toward the sound of Jack’s voice, so close to the table. “Jack?”

“Yeah Brock.” A saucer rested down on the table and Brock reached out, fingers curving around the plate then coming in to brush against wax paper. He couldn’t help himself but grin. “Lemon Drop.”

“You can’t know that from just feeling it out, you haven’t even tasted it. It could be something else.” Jack retorted but his voice gave him away. He was smiling in it; soft and warm, comforting. Brock didn’t need to see to know how beautiful it was.

Brock's hands reached out timidly into the air between them and his face couldn’t help but flush when Jack took them carefully, seemingly unsure of doing so. Pulling himself to his feet, Brock slid his palms along Jack’s arms and over his shoulders, stopping himself from going further.

“Can I?” 

“Anything you want, Brock.” Jack whispered low, his voice soaked in awed fascination.

He went on and he couldn’t stop himself from cupping Jack’s face. There was a scar there, old and faded, along his jaw and cutting into a good layer of scruff that Brock found he really liked the feel of. Jack leaned his head forward a little and gingerly Brock felt out the slope of his nose and the sharp slant of his cheekbones. He continued to be careful as his thumbs swept across the underside of Jack’s eyes and hands circled around his wrists to lead them up just slightly, Jack’s eyes closed as Brock lightly brushed across lashes and the delicate skin of his eyelids. He couldn’t help himself when he smiled over the marks of crows’s feet, knowing it was from all the smiling Jack did that Brock could finally picture better. 

“No one pointed out how damn handsome you’d be.” 

A choked, startled laugh fell out of Jack and Brock felt him shaking his head. “I have to tell you though, next time you run off like that you better know the facts before you do. While it’s true I like you, it wouldn’t have been a temporary thing. I’ve never seen you as a burden because aside from what you do know about me, I apparently failed to mentioned I’m also half blind myself.”

“What?” Brock asked, bewildered.

“Yeah.” Jack confirmed. “That accident before all this that I mentioned to you? It was a pretty bad one. Bucky had been sure you knew that so he wasn’t worried about it backfiring on him, at least over your lack of sight. I still don’t know if you’d be interested in a date with me.” 

Refusing to answer in words, Brock leaned up and pressed their lips together. He hit the corner of Jack’s mouth but Jack had him, a slight tilt of his head correcting it as he was pulled in closer and they both made a valiant attempt at ignoring the audience that was suddenly realized, a round of clapping and whooping breaking out, with spoons tapping excitedly against cups.

They kissed each other for as long as they could before breaking out into grins and Brock buried his face into Jack’s neck. He felt safe there, the smells attached to Jack so strong and laced with hints of hazelnut and coffee; it felt completely like he was home. 

He wasn’t sure but it might have also been that he was maybe a little bit in love with Jack from the moment he had met him. 

“I might have been a little bit in love with you too, right away I mean.” 

Brock paused in confusion, realizing he said the last part of his thought out loud, but didn’t mind too much when Jack’s lips found his again and Bucky hollered from the front counter to get a room.

**Author's Note:**

> Trying to edit some of my finished draft fics. 4/7


End file.
